


See Clearly Now

by Awriterwrites



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 18 year old boys, Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys Kissing, Erections, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Masturbation, Past Relationship(s), Roommates, because, boys falling in love, erections in general, sort of, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 22:25:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9462926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awriterwrites/pseuds/Awriterwrites
Summary: “My eyes are up here.”What?  Was— was Louis flirting with him?Harry looked up — much too slowly, probably — and saw Louis watching him, his mouth quirked up on one side, a grin threatening to steal the pretty curve of his mouth.“What?”  Harry squeaked.Louis put his hands on his hips, almost challenging Harry to look again, “I said...my eyes are up here.”Harry felt something electric pass between them.  He felt the need to take a step forward, call Louis’ bluff, see if he was more bark than bite.Biting sounded really fun right about now.****OR a five-times fic where two guys, one college dorm room and a faulty door lead to a few embarrassing situations and finding out more about themselves and each other than they ever bargained for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I think I can make it now, the pain is gone  
> All of the bad feelings have disappeared  
> Here is the rainbow I've been prayin' for  
> It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)  
> Sun-Shiny day.
> 
> -Johnny Nash, I Can See Clearly Now
> 
> Thank you to my dear, dear friend @twopoppies for betaing and thinking through this with me. I love you. You are the BEST in so many ways. But especially as my creative sparring partner. Also--thanks for the title. And putting that song in my head. Because now it will NEVER leave.
> 
> This is part of a prompt challenge that a group of us are participating in for the prompt "Hinge". To read the other amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, you can [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hinge/works) and to see all fics written as part of the challenge, you can [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/2017_hl_prompt_challenge/works).

The first time  it happens, Harry can’t say he’s really surprised.  

Two guys, one college dorm room, a faulty door...  

They were lucky enough to get a double with a private bathroom.  It was practically an apartment.  A really small, kind of dingy, very used apartment, but still...Harry’s friend, Niall, lived across campus in the other freshman dorm and they all had to share a communal bathroom — ten guys, 5 toilets, 5 showers.  That was just... _ ew _ .  This room had two small bedrooms — closets really, room for a twin bed and a chest of drawers that doubled as a desk — a tiny kitchenette with space for a small fridge and microwave, a living room-slash-hallway-dining area-foyer, and the bathroom.  It was small.  But so much better than the standard room.  Harry wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky, but he wasn’t about to start questioning it.  

The day they moved in, Harry used every ounce of self control he had to not stare at his  _ hot  _ new roommate.  He was small and curvy with bright blue eyes and he was jumpy, in a nervous, kinetic sort of way.  He was sarcastic but full of warmth and easy smiles.  And, to Harry, it seemed that he would make being away from home almost easy.  

Harry learned, in the first fifteen minutes, that Louis was a creative writing major, that he was a Capricorn and that he liked boxed macaroni and cheese (as was evidenced by the case he unloaded in their kitchenette).  And that he was gay.  Very gay (his word choice, not Harry’s).  

“What about you?” Louis asked, leaning against the formica counter that looked like it had seen its fair share of wild nights.

Harry watched the other boy fix his hair, sliding careful fingers through it in an effort to push it off his forehead.  It fell back over his eyes immediately.  “Oh me?  Um...art major.  I want to study photography.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“Um...Aquarius?  And...gay.”  He coughed into his closed fist and looked at Louis.  “Also.  So, yeah.  There’s that.”

Louis nodded once and repeated, a slow smile spreading across his face, “Cool.”

They’d only known each other a few minutes and already Harry was drawn to Louis.  He was  _ interesting _ .  Everything from his soft voice and mannerisms — the way he walked and held his hands so that his wrists curved in artful repose when he was still — all of it captured Harry’s attention.  He was looking forward to getting to know him.  

It didn’t hurt that Louis was so easy on the eyes.  And, apparently, gay.  

“Hey...um...did you have any trouble with the bathroom door?” 

Louis looked up from the box of books, toiletries and shoes — strange mix, that was — he was unpacking.  “Nope.”   Louis’ voice had a subtle rasp to it, reminding Harry of the blues music that his grandfather used to play when he was a kid.  Nostalgia washed over him.  

Harry scratched the back of his neck, messing up the already loose bun he had pulled up hours ago.  “Hm.  It’s kinda wonky?”

“Wonky?”  

Harry grinned, wide and stupid, at the boy on the floor.  Louis’ hair was a mess all over his head and he had a smudge of glitter from a poster across his forehead.  He looked wild-eyed as he took in the new information, his concentration scattered.  “There’s like...a number somewhere?  For maintenance?  We can call it...” 

Harry just stared, he was hypnotized by Louis’ effortless beauty and the cadence of his speech.

“You ok there jolly green?”

“Wha — ?”

“Got a little wonky there yourself,” Louis smirked at him and stood up, brushing past Harry, the scent of late summer sweat and vanilla filling his senses.  “C’mon.  Let’s go get some food.  We can deal with the door later.  I’m starved.”  

Harry watched him brush dust off his ass and he was more than a little mesmerized with the way the round flesh jiggled under the other boy’s hands.  Harry was  _ definitely _ an ass man.

“You coming?” Louis tossed over his shoulder.

“Um...yeah.  I’m um…”  

“ _ Coming _ .”  Louis teased, breezing out the door with Harry hot on his heels.

So, yeah.  Everything was peachy.  Dreamy.  More perfect than Harry could have imagined.

Until THE INCIDENT.

****

It was Friday afternoon — late — and Harry had survived his first full week of classes.  He had about fifteen minutes to shower and change before he was due at Niall’s room for a movie night.  He was looking forward to letting off some steam after a grueling first week. Some beers, some pizza...he needed to  _ unwind _ .  

“Louis?”  Harry called out into the dark, still room.  

Silence.  

“ _ Yes _ !” Harry whisper-shouted, fist pumping into the air, delighted to have the dorm to himself.  

Sharing such small space, even though Louis was lovely, was a challenge sometimes.  It didn’t leave much time for walking around in one’s underwear, for example.  Or, other, more... _ carnal _ pursuits.  Yeah, Harry thought, it was  _ definitely  _ nice to be alone.  

Harry started stripping on the way to his room, humming the Stone’s “Beast of Burden” along the way.  He stopped by the small shared bathroom to turn on the water.  As the room filled with steam, Harry went to his bedroom and laid out his clothes for the night on his bed, throwing his dirty clothes in the hamper.  Naked, he luxuriated in the feeling of  _ clotheslesness _ .  Felt good.  Natural.

He loved being naked.

When Harry stepped into the shower he let out a long, slow groan, the hot water prickling his skin like dry heat in a desert.  It felt  _ good _ .  It felt like exactly what he needed after a taxing first week of moving in, classes, and overall adjustment.  As the stress of the day, week and months leading up to right here, right now, washed down the drain, Harry felt... _ relaxed _ .  More relaxed than he had in a long time.  Being relaxed led to a general feeling of looseness, and...arousal.  

Apparently, his entire body was interested in taking advantage of the empty dorm room.  

It had been exactly one week since his last wank.  Living with someone else — especially someone as sexy, flirtatious, and beautiful as Louis — had its definite downside.  

Squirting some shower gel into his palm, Harry slid his hand down his torso, the rough edge of a nail dragging over one of his sensitive nipples.  The whine that was pulled from the back of his throat was soft, needy.  Keeping one hand on his chest, skating back and forth between his nipples, he slowly glided his hand down his torso, over his abs and down his happy trail between well defined v-lines.  

He took his half hard cock in his right palm and just let it sit there, heavy and smooth.   He teased himself for a moment, tightening his grip little by little until his fist was closed around it and he could feel the vein on the underside pulse gently.  Groaning, he let his head roll back and he slowly started pumping his slick hand up and down his length.  The sensation of his hand and the hot water, along with the complete feeling of calm, was the perfect storm for a quick orgasm.  

A small moan slipped out and he bit his lip, trying to suppress the sounds bubbling up in his throat.  But...Louis wasn’t home.  Fuck it — might as well let loose, Harry thought, throwing caution to the wind.  Who knew when the next time would be that he’d be alone like this?

“Fuck yeah,” he moaned, making the decision to  _ just do it _ .  The deep sound of his gravelly voice echoed in the room, mixing with the fragrant steam like a cocktail — a  _ sex cocktail _ .

Harry laughed at his ridiculous joke, the sound of his giggle cut short when his hand rolled over the sensitive head of his now fully hard cock. Harry had a thing for noises during sex.  Didn’t matter if they were his or a partner’s.  He just liked it.  A lot.  

“God,  _ yes _ ,” his voice rose in volume as he continued working himself over.  His eyes drifted closed and he focused on how good it felt, the slick sounds and the pleasure ringing through his nerve endings.  “Fuck, god.   _ Fuck me _ .”  

He could feel his release building, the ebb and flow of it strangely exotic, yet predictable.  This part was the part he loved best.  That part where he knew the inevitable was just right around the corner, gaining speed, and he was helpless to stop it.  With just the  _ right  _ pressure, just the  _ right  _ motion, he could make himself feel like he was flying into outer space, spiraling out of control, lost in the euphoria that came with a well deserved orgasm.  

Man, wanking was  _ awesome _ .  

“Fuuuuck,” he was starting to shake, the first hot spurts spilling over his wet, soapy fingers when he was startled — interrupted — by a loud, wrenching sound.  

His first instinct was to cover the goods.  But the goods were  _ coming _ , so that was hard (no pun intended).  He stared out into the steam and, through the University-issued clear plastic shower curtain, he could see that bathroom door had fallen— or been  _ ripped _ — off its hinges.  

And there, there, in the quickly clearing room (because steam and cool air — cool air wins every time) was Louis.  Harry’s new roommate Louis was staring at him with wide eyes and he looked like he had seen a ghost.  Or a tragic murder.  Or, christ, his own mother masturbating.  Which... _ oh god _ .

“Get out!  Get out!”  Harry shrieked in a not very manly voice.  

There was a moment, come dripping down Harry’s pulsing cock and ( _ oh fuck _ ) still pumping fist, that Louis just  _ stared _ .  His pretty pink mouth was open in a sweet little O and his hand was still on the knob of the blasted door — as if he had wrenched it from the wall — and he was just  _ staring _ .  At Harry.  

While he was coming. 

“Out!”  Harry yelled again.  Much more manly this time, thank god.

“Christ on a cracker!  Fucking hell, I’m sorry!  Shit!”  Louis was turning in circles like a confused puppy until he finally turned and banged right into the wall.  “Fuck!” he shouted, rubbing his forehead before racing out of the room.  

Harry dropped back to the cool tile and felt the dregs of his orgasm tingling in his groin, but the magic was definitely gone.  That ship had sailed.  Along with blue eyes and a gaping mouth and,  _ christ _ , he was getting hard again.  

****

Sure, they couldn’t look at each other for a few days after wank-a-rama, but eventually Harry seemed less uncomfortable when Louis was in the room and, thankfully, they were able to find a little peace in their dorm suite and move on.  Louis called building services the very next day and was told there was a “backlog” of work and a “shortage” of maintenance men, meaning they’d have to deal with it themselves.

“So, Harry,” Louis broached the subject one night over cheap pizza and even cheaper beer.  

“So, Louis,” Harry parroted him back with a cheeky smirk and dimple. 

Fuck, he was charming.

“Since we, um....have a bathroom door situation on our hands…” he shuffled uncomfortably against the kitchenette counter he was leaning upon.  “We should like, come up with a system or something.”

Harry chewed on the crust of his pizza, brow furrowed, looking deep in thought.  Louis thought he was probably the most endearing boy he’d ever seen.  He  _ had  _ to have guys chasing after him all the time.  He had to.  How could he not?  He was a living, breathing paradox.  Everything about him was an enigma.  Deep voice, gorgeous dimples and bouncy curls.  Long gangly limbs, devastating muscles and tattoos.  Rosy cheeks, pink lips, sinfully tight jeans and a ginormous cock.  

Ok.  That last one he probably shouldn’t know.  But he did.  Because of the shower incident.  And, fuck.  Louis couldn’t stop thinking about it.  And the way he sounded while wanking?  Jesus.  It made Louis dizzy, just the memory of it. 

But more than that, Harry was so  _ attractive _ .  And sweet.  And funny.  It made Louis kind of stupid.

Like right now, for example.  Louis realized that Harry had spoken and Louis couldn’t stop staring at him.  At the way his mouth formed words, slow and easy like a misty, humid summer morning, deep voice tugging at the depths of Louis’ groin and...oh.  Yeah.  Not the right time.

Probably never will be the right time.  Roommates and all — not to mention Louis’ monumental trust issues.  So, yeah.  Probably not the right time now— or ever.

“What did you say?”

Harry smiled, dimple showing, a-fucking-gain.  “I said maybe we need like a curtain or something?  Or we can just, like, prop the door up until they come and fix it?”

Louis nodded his head.  “Yeah, I mean.  That could work.”  

There was more, and oh, god.  He was so embarrassed to say it.  

“What if one of has to take a you know... _ go number two _ ?”  And there it was.  God bless Harry for saying it first.

Louis barked out a laugh and stared up at the ceiling, with soft smile.  How could he not love this kid?  “Yeah.  We probably need like a code word?  And the other one should go in their room or something.  Close the door?”

“Something other than ‘poop’?”  Harry was grinning again, almost like he knew how much it made Louis squirm.  He was so pretty, with that mouth of his.  

“Well, Harry.   I think maybe something a little more refined, less...obvious.”  Louis jiggled his leg, a nervous tic.  Harry made him nervous sometimes.  

Harry pondered it for a moment and then jumped up into the air with an enthusiastic yelp.  “Beetle!”

Louis just stared.  “Beetle?”

Harry nodded his head and took a long drink of his beer.  Louis watched his throat bob, feeling a slight stirring in his pants at the way it moved against the long line of his creamy, pale neck.  He looked away.

Harry laughed, deep and throaty as he placed his empty in the sink.  “Beetle.  Ok.  So hear me out.”

Louis busied himself with wrapping up the leftover pizza.  They really needed to do something about the old leftover food in the fridge — it was starting to reek.  Harry buzzed around him, throwing away napkins and plates and rinsing bottles for recycling.  It was all very domestic.  Louis’ stomach fluttered excitedly at that.  Ugh.  He must be missing home.  That must be it, Louis thought, as he rolled his eyes at himself internally.  Because domestic meant boyfriend and boyfriend meant possibly forever and Louis wasn’t going to get forever with a guy like Harry.  Harry, who was hotter than hot and could have his pick of any boy on campus.

“Right.  So dung beetle.  Get it?”

Louis passed Harry another beer and they made their way over to the bean bag chairs that served as their only seating in the small living room.  The TV was already on, an old episode of Seinfeld playing softly.  “Dung beetle?  Really, Harry?  That’s the best you can come up with?”

Harry looked quite pleased with himself.  “Yeah.  Well.  You said refined.  And, I left off the dung part.”

Louis shook his head.  This kid, honestly.  “Yeah, ok, darling.  Beetle it is.”  

Harry looked very smug, with his legs all folded up awkwardly and the flex of his bicep distractingly hot with every chug of his beer.  Louis decided to do something about that.  With one swift kick he was able to upend the bean bag chair, spilling it to its side, with Harry in tow.  

That will fix him, Louis thought, grinning stupidly.

Little did he know, that was apparently ok with Harry.  Harry clambered back to his seat with a dopey smile.  “Aw, Lou.  You like me.”  His voice was way too fond for someone with a t-shirt full of spilt beer.  “And you like my secret code word.”

Louis shook his head and resigned himself to listening to Harry singing off-key versions of every Beatles song he knew to commemorate the occasion.

****

The second time it happened Louis found himself wide awake in his bed, unable to sleep.  They were experiencing an Indian Summer, something the Midwest was famous for.  The days were long and unseasonably warm, with cooler nights, typically.  Except for tonight.  Tonight it was sweltering.  Louis was drenched.  For a minute he thought he’d had a wet dream — and, god, he hadn’t had one of those in years — but then he realized he was just really sweaty.  

He peeled off his boxer briefs and threw them in the corner of his room.  He looked blearily around the dark bedroom and couldn’t muster the energy to find a clean pair.  He lay in the middle of the small bed and stared at the ceiling.  The cool air felt good on his bare skin but he felt far too awake for...what time was it?  Four in the morning.  Shit.  Another three hours before he had to be up for class. 

He tossed and turned for a few minutes and was distracted by the need to pee.  Might as well, he thought.  He got up and cracked open his bedroom door.  Looking out into the dimly lit space he could see that it was empty and quiet.  Dashing down the hall to the bathroom, Louis didn’t bother with the lights, not wanting to disturb Harry.  His eyes were closed as he gripped himself and aimed for the general area of the toilet.  

He was half hard.  

Probably from the need to urinate.  Probably from the way the overhead fan had felt in his bedroom on his hot, fevered skin.  Probably because he was an eighteen year old boy.  

Whatever the reason, he was half hard in the dark bathroom in the middle of the night with one hand around his dick and the other supporting his weight on the wall behind the toilet.  He gave himself an experimental tug.  

Nice.

So nice he thought...what the hell.

Two tugs turned into three and then four and before he knew it he was completely hard and panting in the small dark room.  He was definitely wide awake and  _ definitely  _ needed to come.  Biting his lip, he pushed off the wall and slipped the fingers of his free hand lower until his middle finger grazed his hole.  And,  _ fuck _ , that felt good.

He hadn’t been fucked in what felt like centuries — really about three months since he broke up with John — and a finger anywhere near his asshole felt like red hot coals scraping up his spine.  He was on fire and needed something.  

He was considering the merits of shooting off in the bathroom, where he was liable to be heard, or worse yet, seen, versus waddling back to his room where he could finish up respectably with lube and everything when a bright light eclipsed his vision.

“Wha —?”  He jerked toward the doorway, on instinct, and was met with a sleep rumpled, bleary eyed Harry.  

Harry, with one hand in his own underwear, sporting his own hard-on.  His hand was still on the light switch as he fish mouthed at Louis.  Who still had his hand on his cock.  The very same cock that was bubbling pre-come effusively, in danger of erupting right there between them in their shared bathroom.

“Oh my god.   _ Oh my god _ !”  Harry yelled and yanked his hand out of his pants, running his other hand over his face.  His eyes were bugged out comically and his wide red mouth was hanging open and it looked so warm and wet and inviting…

And, oh fuck.  

“Harry!  A little privacy here!”  Louis angled his body away while Harry finally,  _ finally _ got the hint and turned around, racing back to his room.

“Sorry!  Sorry!” Came the embarrassed cry just before the door down the hall slammed shut.

Louis was breathing heavily and realized he was still holding his cock.  And it was still hard.  And,  _ fuck _ , if seeing Harry in his skin tight boxer briefs, with miles and miles of soft-looking skin and that soft downy line of hair leading down to his... _ god _ .  If that didn’t add fuel to the fire, Louis wasn’t sure what would because his roommate was everything every one of his fantasies were made of.    

Back in his bedroom, an embarrassingly short time later, Louis was wiping his torso with a dirty t-shirt and cleaning his hand with a wipe.  As he pushed his sweaty hair off his forehead he started to get the feeling he was well and truly fucked.  And not in the literal way.  Nope.  He was figuratively fucked by his situation with his very hot, very much shouldn’t be fantasizing about while wanking, roommate.  

****

The third time  was just stupid.  

After the second incident, Harry had found himself apologizing profusely over Cheerios the next morning.  Louis was graceful about it, if not a bit brusque.  

“No worries, Harry.  Learned my lesson, didn’t I?”  He didn’t look up from his English Lit text while shoveling spoonfuls of cereal and banana in his mouth.  “Plus, we’re even now.”

“Yeah...I guess.  I mean…”  Despite Louis’ flirty wink, Harry felt incredibly guilty.  And, embarrassingly turned on.  

By his roommate.  Wanking in the middle of the night.  In their shared bathroom.

And, when did he life become such a porn-meets-soap-opera-meets-sitcom?

“So, any big plans this weekend?”  Harry was desperate to change the subject.

Louis swallowed his mouthful of cereal and tilted his head, finally looking at Harry properly for the first time since Harry sat down.  “Was thinking of going out on Saturday with Marcus from running club.”

“Oh.  That should be fun.”  Harry felt a pang of jealousy.  And seriously?  Like Louis couldn’t have other friends — couldn’t hang out with other guys?  Marcus was kind of dick, though, Harry thought.  Well...not that he’d know, he’d never really had a conversation with him, but still — he looked like a dick.  He was handsome and had blindingly white teeth and always seemed to be laughing.  Total dick.

“Yeah,” Louis said, standing up and taking his bowl to the sink.  Harry absolutely did not watch his arse move under his tight jeans.  “Who knows?  Might even pick someone up.”  

Harry felt his eyes narrow as he watched Louis gather up his things.  Pick someone up?  What?  No.  His mind was screaming but he sat there, helpless, as Louis sauntered toward the door.  

“Bye Haz,” Louis called over his shoulder, letting the door slam behind him as he left for class.  

And, as Harry sat there in the suddenly very lonely, very quiet dorm, he felt like crying.  If that’s what Louis was after then there was no way Harry was the guy for him.  No way. 

****

It was Louis who suggested it.  “So, I think maybe we should come up with, like, a shower schedule.”

Harry was beat after a long study session at the library and just wanted to melt into his sheets.  Louis' early class schedule meant he was usually in bed long before the time Harry came home on nights like this, so it was a bit of surprise for Harry to find Louis waiting up for him.  “Schedule?”  

“Yeah.  You know.  Beetle is working out pretty well, so…”

Harry grinned over his glass of water.  “Beetle is definitely working out well.”  

Louis’ cheeks pinked as he stood from his bean bag chair.  Harry couldn’t help but watch the way he stood from that low squatting position to a full standing position in such a fluid movement.  It was unreal.  His thighs had to be solid muscle.  

Well, they were.  Harry should know.  He’d seen them.  While Louis was wanking.  In their shared bathroom.

And, oh god.  There were the dirty thoughts again.

“Anyway.  I hope you don’t mind…”  Louis walked to the fridge and Harry noticed a sheet of paper covered in a messy scrawl.  Louis reached for it with delicate fingers as he pulled it off and placed it on the counter between the two of them. “I took your schedule and mine and compared them?  And then I factored in, like, when you go to the gym to work out and when I have running club and then, like, just random times when one of us might need a shower...and…”

Harry looked at the paper and could see that Louis had developed an intricate schedule for each of them and when they would have access to the bathroom and the shower.  “Oh...yeah.  That’s…”  

Harry was at a loss for words.  Only because this was pretty organized, considering the source.  Coming from the boy who left dirty socks everywhere and seemed to always be misplacing his notebooks and backpack and, just yesterday asked Harry if he could borrow a t-shirt because he had “forgotten” to do laundry…And when did he learn Harry’s schedule so intimately?  It felt weird to know that Louis had actually taken time to memorize his coming and goings and that was, well, oddly very sweet.

This was kind of unexpected.  Louis had actually been paying attention to him.  

Then, as suddenly as the thoughts had entered his mind, Harry felt an uncomfortable twisting in his stomach.  Because, that might not be the reason at all.  What if the reason for the scheduling was because...maybe Louis never wanted to see him naked again.  Or he didn’t want Harry to see him naked and...sure, it’s embarrassing and a little awkward, but there are worse things in the world, right?  Like, what’s so bad about them seeing each other naked? They were both young, hot...gay.  It was like...kismet or something. 

In Harry’s mind they had been on track for something — something more than friendship.  They’d been spending a lot of time together and, Harry for one, was really enjoying getting to know Louis.  But now...in light of the  _ schedule _ , Harry felt like maybe he was over exaggerating how close they’d been getting.  Louis probably had just been being nice to him since they’re roommates.  That’s all.  

Harry had been thinking about it since the other day when Louis made that comment about hooking up with someone at a club, and...that’s wasn’t what Harry was after at all — especially not now, not when he’d worked so hard to get where he was.  And god, what if Louis had been thinking Harry was just downright creepy — coming on too strong, staring at him all moon-eyed all the time, and that was his way of shooting Harry down?  And Harry, dimwit that he was, didn’t get the message so now Louis was forced to come up with this convoluted schedule?  

Louis was watching Harry expectantly, an eyebrow arched over a sleepy blue eye.  “Yeah.  Yeah, sure.  This is great.  Thanks Lou.”  

Louis nodded once, appearing pleased with his schedule — his desire to avoid seeing Harry glaringly obvious — as he slapped the schedule back on the fridge.

“Great.”

“Great.”

The stood in the tiny kitchenette and looked at each other.  The fluorescent light overhead blinked once or twice — another annoying quirk of their dorm.  Harry bit his lip as Louis watched him and looked like he wanted to say something else.  Harry waited, but nothing came.

“Ok, well…”  Louis’ voice was tired, soft.  He looked worn out.  Harry kind of wanted to tuck him under his arm and cuddle him to sleep.

“Right.  I’m just gonna…”  Harry gestured over his shoulder as he paused, waiting to see if Louis had anything else to say.  

He didn’t.

Harry fell asleep that night dreaming about blue eyes under a bright light with traces of permanent ink etched across golden skin.

****

Harry was quickly learning that midterm for first year college students was hell on earth.  Neither of them were getting a lot of sleep and their routines had gone a little haywire.  Aside from the mass amounts of studying and endless pots of coffee, the living situation between Louis and Harry had been going really well.  Beetle and the Sharpie schedule were keeping everything organized and well-coordinated.  The only bad thing was that they had hardly seen each other over the last week, their exams and study sessions not really lining up.  

Harry could admit that he kind of missed Louis.  He’d become such a big part of his every day and now that he was sort of absent....it felt a little lonely.  They were kind of like ships passing in the night and it made Harry feel kind of off center.  A bit forlorn.  

Harry had crammed all night and had only slept two hours before guzzling coffee to stay awake while taking back to back exams for Econ and Speech.  He begged off of a pickup game of basketball with Niall and some other friends, hoping to catch some much needed sleep before getting up to write his last mid-term paper.  He was expecting another all-nighter and was not looking forward to it.  

His reward for procrastinating.

He ignored the lure of his bed, instead, grabbing his towel from the back of his door, his shaving kit and a pair of loose trackies.  He was looking down at his phone, reading an email from his mom as he blearily stumbled to the bathroom.  He didn’t think to look up.

He really should have.

“Harry!  What the fuck?”  Louis’ voice was high and frantic, if not a bit robotic.  Which was odd, but he didn’t have time to process it.

Harry looked up and promptly dropped his phone.  Because Louis, Louis was standing in the middle of the bathroom, one headphone hanging around his neck, one still in his ear.  Harry was pretty sure he could hear the 1975 coming from the loose earbud.  Louis was, once again, naked.

“I…”  Harry couldn’t help it.  He looked.

Ah, fuck.  He looked and Louis’ cock was hanging freely between his sinfully strong legs and it was equally impressive semi-hard as it was fully hard and jesus christ, Harry couldn’t stop staring.  He was imagining licking up the underside and coaxing Louis to hardness and it was all he could do to not moan because he could almost taste it, and…

“My eyes are up here.”

What?  Was— was Louis flirting with him?

Harry looked up — much too slowly, probably — and saw Louis watching him, his mouth quirked up on one side, a grin threatening to steal the pretty curve of his mouth.  

“What?”  Harry squeaked.

Louis put his hands on his hips, almost challenging Harry to look again, “I  _ said _ ...my eyes are up here.”

Harry felt something electric pass between them.  He felt the need to take a step forward, call Louis’ bluff, see if he was more bark than bite.

Biting sounded really fun right about now.

As tired as he was, Harry was starting to feel very, very awake.

“It’s my turn on the schedule, Haz.”  Louis said softly, seductively.

Harry looked again.

And, holy fuck, Louis was getting hard.  Harder. 

Louis was getting hard with Harry looking at him while he was naked and something short-circuited in Harry’s brain because suddenly he was mumbling incoherently just staring at Louis’ cock and…

“It’s all yours,” Louis whispered, and for a moment Harry thought he meant his cock and what the fuck was happening?  And then Louis was sliding past him, rubbing his warm, still damp body along Harry’s side.  

Is this what a stroke feels like?  Harry wondered to himself because he was pretty sure he was having a stroke or like, an out of body experience because surely that wasn’t Louis’ erection rubbing against his leg?

Was it?

****

Louis couldn’t believe how bold he was.

Louis wasn’t  _ that guy. _

Not usually, anyway.  But there was something about Harry.  Between his deep voice and his endless legs and the way he just knew how Louis liked his pizza?  He was just so  _ dreamy _ .

And, ok.  Louis was horny.  It had been months since he’d gotten any action.  To be fair, between his studies and his part time job at the campus library, and pretty much only hanging out with Harry it was no wonder he hadn’t found someone to hook up with but still…

Louis was well aware of the fact that he was lying to himself about his lack of sexual contact with someone else.  It wasn’t just that he was busy.  It had a lot to do with working through his past and all the feelings that were stubbornly clinging to his heart, his soul, like barnacles on the underside of a ship.  He wasn’t ready and wasn’t sure when he would be but one thing was clear, his dick had not gotten the memo.  

He just rubbed up against Harry in the bathroom while he was naked like some kind of  _ animal _ marking his territory.

And he liked it.

As evidenced by his hard-on.  

The thing was, he had heard Harry come in the dorm room.  Had heard him bumbling around in his room and heading down the hall.  He could have put a towel on.  He could have yelled out a warning.  But he didn’t.  He wasn’t exactly sure why he didn’t, but he didn’t and now here he was, after basically molesting his roommate with his erection and... _ shit _ .  

Little by little, since that first day at the end of August, Louis had found himself drawn into Harry’s orbit.  He was fun.  And a good listener.  And he had shit taste in movies and bands, but he took Louis’ teasing like a champ, so that was saying something.  Midterms had screwed up their easy flow of hanging out and just — existing together.  And Louis couldn’t help it, he missed the kid.  

But more than that, Louis was coming to realize that he was  _ attracted  _ to Harry, but not just because of his looks.  Because of who he was as a person.  He was the kind of person who never used the last of the milk.  He was the kind of person who always asked if you had laundry because he was about to throw a load in.  And, he was also the kind of person who went to French films with subtitles because his roommate had to for a class, but he went along to make sure that Louis didn’t miss anything, taking notes avidly and then going for coffee afterward to discuss it.  Harry was just that kind of person — the kind of guy who could make a really good boyfriend to someone someday.

But Harry was his roommate.  And hooking up with him was probably against the roommate code of ethics or something.  Trying to start a real, adult, relationship was probably the worst idea.  How cliche would he be if he turned out to be the gay kid that goes away to college and throws himself at his god of a roommate, gets rejected and then fails all his classes and lives in his mother’s basement for the rest of his life?

Or — even worse — put himself out there and got hurt.  Again.

Something had to be done.

****  

They were ignoring it.

“It” being the proverbial elephant in the room.  The obvious  _ thing  _ slapping them in the face.  The taboo subject that was  _ them _ .  

Their attraction to each other.

Midterms passed and the semester went on.  And, with time passing, Louis and Harry fell into an even more comfortable routine than before.  The only difference was that, now, they were pretty much inseparable.  They didn’t talk about seeing each other naked.  And they  _ definitely  _ paid more attention to the schedule.  Harry was pretty sure that Louis wanted to talk about it but whenever it almost came up, Harry changed the subject.

He just couldn’t bring himself to talk about it.  To face it.  Because what if Louis didn’t feel the same way?  Harry could tell that, physically, Louis was into him.  His small hot hands were like quickfire whenever he touched Harry.  And he was  _ always  _ touching him.  The way he stared at Harry whenever he was shirtless was like a drug — Harry wanted to burn in that scrutiny always.  And the way Louis would lose his ability to speak whenever they were sitting close, with the lights off, a film in the background muting the light until everything was shadow and light?  Insanely addictive.  But Harry didn’t want a fling.  Especially not with Louis.  No, he wanted more.  He wanted everything.  He was at the point in his life when he could honestly say he’d gotten past any fear he had of commitment.  He came to college with the intention of leaving his past behind and, despite being so young, he knew what he wanted.  

Now, he was in it for the long haul.

For Harry,  it was all or nothing.  

****

It was during a particularly wintry week in early November when Louis caught a cold.  Harry had just stopped at the cafeteria and brought back two steaming bowls of soup and some semi-fresh dinner rolls.  It was the best he could do.  The snow storm had closed everything else within walking distance.  

“Mommmmmmm,” Louis whined over Skype.  “I’b siiiiickkk.”

“Aw baby.  I’m sorry.  You need some soup.  Where’s Harry?  Can he get you some chicken noodle soup?”  He mom looked concerned, and a little patronizing.  Harry smiled.  Louis’ mom was such a dear, sweet woman — always worrying about her eldest.

Louis blew his nose.  Loud.  Obnoxious.  

Harry was incredibly endeared.  

“Oh thank goodness Harry is there!”  Louis’ mum chirped.  

Harry leaned into the frame and called out, “Hey Jay!”

Louis blew his nose again, throwing the rumpled tissue to the floor.  Nowhere near the trash can.  Harry got bowls out and poured the soup and warmed the rolls in the microwave.  He poured some orange juice for both of them and put it all on a tray to bring to Louis on the sofa they'd just acquired from a friend of a friend of Niall’s.  The specifics of how this sofa just happened to fall into Niall’s lap were suspect, but Harry and Louis didn’t ask too many questions.  They just hauled it up the three flights to their room and threw a blanket over it.  Every few days they had to spray it with air freshener because it smelled an awful lot like old curry but it was a sofa.  And it was free.  A magical thing to a college student.

“Momb.  I habbta go.  Gonna eat by soup Hazza brought mbe.”  

Harry wrinkled his nose.  Louis was adorable when he was ill.  His nose was all red and his eyes were puffy and his voice was even scratchier than usual.  And he whined.  All the time.  It was adorable.

“Thanks,” Louis croaked as Harry passed him a bowl.

Harry smiled and they started eating the warm soup.  Louis had some music on in the background and it was warm and cozy in their room.  “Feeling any better?”  Harry asked, nudging Louis with his foot.

“A little.  Talking to mom always helps.”  Harry thought it was interesting how Louis’ voice cleared up a bit now that he wasn’t talking to his mom.  Such a mama’s boy he was.  

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Harry spoke again.  “Hey — are you going home for Christmas?”

“Yeah.  I mean.  I think so?”  Louis looked up at Harry, his blue eyes pale and watery, but still beautiful in the bright winter light streaming through the window.  “How about you?”

“I dunno.  My mom texted this morning that she and Robin are going to the Caribbean.  I can go with, you know?  But I don’t know if I want to.  Feels like I might be intruding?”  

Louis looked over his orange juice thoughtfully.  “You can always come to mine for the holidays.”

Harry was taken aback.  “I wouldn’t — I wouldn’t want to intrude.  I mean.  I can stay here…”

“Nonsense.  What’s another kid?  That’s the Tommo mantra.”  Louis smiled into his soup and a comfortable silence descended around them again.  

The finished eating and Harry brought their dishes to the sink.  “Hey, if I come home with you do you think we could, like, hang out with your friends from home?  Like go to all the places you went to when you were a teenager?”

As Harry eased himself back into his spot on the sofa he watched Louis’ face fall.  “Lou?”

“Yeah, no.  It’s just that...um.  I don’t really keep in touch with my friends at home anymore?”

Harry tilted his head.  The sadness that crowded Louis’ eyes was alarming.  Louis’ eyes should always be full of life — full of joy.  Harry did not like seeing him like this at all.  “Wanna talk about it?”

Louis picked at a thread on the blanket he was wrapped up in.  He didn’t look up when he spoke.  “Um.  I had a boyfriend?  My senior year.  And...we were were part of a big group of friends, you know?”

Harry nodded.  He was not surprised Louis had a boyfriend.  He was definitely boyfriend material.  Louis continued, “Yeah...well, I thought we were all friends.  John was…”

Louis inhaled deeply, the sound rattly and clogged, he wiped at his eyes quickly.  Harry couldn’t be sure if Louis was crying or if it was just the cold.  He ran a hand over Louis’ pajama clad knee.  “You don’t have to say anything else, Louis, if you don’t want — “

“No, no.  It’s ok.”  Louis looked up and the emotion in his eyes pierced Harry’s chest like a dagger.  It was raw and fresh and so very different from the Louis Tomlinson he was used to.  It was the most vulnerable he’d ever seen him.  “John and another guy from our school had been...sleeping together for the last six months he and I were together.  Um…”  his voice broke and Harry grabbed for his hand.  He could feel his own eyes filling with tears.  “All of our friends knew about it?  And...no one — no one — “

His voice finally broke and Louis started crying.  At first it was a few stifled sobs and then it was full out tears and deep shaky breaths.  It broke Harry’s heart to see this boy, who was normally so full of life and vivacious, be so sad, so broken.  “Oh Lou.”  He pulled Louis to his chest, Louis falling into him willingly.

Louis cried for awhile, and let Harry just hold him.  Harry ran his hands over Louis’ back and shoulders and shushed him with quiet assurances into his hair.  Louis sniffled and Harry was pretty sure that, more than once, he used Harry’s t-shirt as a tissue.  It was ok.  It was all ok.  As long as he could keep holding Louis this way, as long as he could take some of the pain away.

“Babe. I’m so sorry.”  Harry’s voice was soft and gentle.  Louis looked up at him, his eyes now as red as his nose and snot and tears all over his pale face.  Christ he was beautiful.  

“I’m not usually such a cry baby.  It’s the cold…”  Louis shrugged.  But Harry could see right through him.  A bright feeling started to take root in Harry’s chest and he felt the first flare of hope.  Louis trusted Harry with this.  Trusted him to not only take care of him when he was sick, but to hold his heart when he was too sad to hold it himself.  And that...that was a lot.  

It made Harry feel important, somehow, with Louis in his arms.  Made him feel like he could stay here forever.

****

Louis was hot.  So fucking hot.  He tried to roll over but was met with a soft, yet firm obstacle keeping him in place.  

“What the fuck?”  He didn’t recognize his own voice but he did recognize the scent that had surrounded him.  

Harry.

Harry smelled like Christmas and pine and incense.  He always smelled earthy and clean.  Like walking into a candle shop.  Complex.  All-encompassing.  

“Haz?”

“Sssh.  ‘V got you.”  Harry was the obstacle.  

Harry was sprawled out on the couch with this legs split into a wide V.  Louis was in his lap with his face practically buried in his armpit.  And oh, crap.  He must have fallen asleep while he was...shit.  Crying over John.  

Fuck.

“Um…”

Harry was smiling down at him with a sleepy, lopsided grin.  “You were so tired.  You just...passed out?”

“On your — “ Louis’ voice came out hoarse and crackled.  He cleared his throat.  “On your lap?”

“Well.  Yeah?”  Harry didn’t look like he minded.  

Which was — interesting.  

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Louis looked around the room but didn’t make a move to slide off Harry’s lap.  It was warm here.  And comfortable.  And soft.  And...a little hard.

Fuck.  Harry was hard.

“God.  Oh!  I’m sorry.  I — “  Louis scrambled off of Harry, feeling his cheeks flaming and the sweat that had nothing to do with his illness start to gather at the base of his spine.

Harry smiled, sheepish and slow.  “Yeah.  Um.  You were like wriggling around a lot?  And I didn’t want to move you because you need your rest.  So I just…”

“You just sat there while I...what?”  Louis was scooched all the way to the other side of the sofa.  

“‘S just biology, that’s all Lou.  No worries.”  

Harry’s face was indecipherable.  Louis couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed for Louis or if he was embarrassed for himself.  Or if it was a combination?  And...was he maybe just a little turned on?  Or, oh god, what if Harry thought that Louis thought it was creepy that he got hard because Louis had been on his lap...and,  _ shit _ .

Louis was confused.  The weeks of being together in such close quarters and getting to know each other had begun to build to a frustrating crescendo.  He couldn’t be sure how Harry felt about him, but he knew he had found himself slowly falling for Harry.  

“Um...I could go for some tea?”  Louis croaked, his throat still sore from the cold.

“Coming right up!”  Harry jumped off the sofa and raced to the kitchen.  Louis couldn’t help the soft smile at the other boy’s eagerness to help him; to make him feel better.   Or maybe he was just eager to hide the issue going on in his pants.

After a few minutes, Harry came back with two mugs in his hand.  “So what about you, Haz?  I told you my big dark secret...any skeletons in your closet?”  

Harry handed Louis his tea and gave him a lopsided grin.  “Nothin’ to tell.”

Louis tilted his head and looked up at Harry.  His eyes were soft in the waning light and there were shadows under his eyes.  The strong jawline that Louis had thought about kissing and running his tongue along many times...he was just so damn good looking.  And...the erection hadn’t flagged.  

Louis cleared his throat and looked away.  “You um...I’m sure you have something to tell.”

Harry sat next to him again, bringing with him the familiar smell of Christmas.  Louis glanced at him and for the first time since Louis met Harry he looked uncertain.  He was faltering and Louis didn’t know why.  Harry picked up the remote and turned up the volume.  

“I love this show,” he said, staring at the television, an episode of Family Guy dancing across the screen.  

Louis sat next to the Harry, the air between them changed somehow.  Harry was hiding something.  Louis knew that Harry was making a choice to keep something from him — and that stung.  They’d gotten so close over the last few weeks and months, and for some reason Harry didn’t feel he could confide in Louis.  A whole slew of feelings accosted him then.  He couldn’t believe that he had done it again — that he had trusted someone, almost blindly — and all he had to show for it was a one sided friendship.  How could he have let this happen again?

The flood of emotions, combined with how poorly he felt, consumed him — a fever rush of embarrassment and sorrow bringing bitter tears to his eyes.  He brushed them away quickly and turned from Harry, getting up off the couch.  “H.  ‘M gonna go to bed.”

He slipped off the couch, leaving his tea on the coffee table.  “Lou...you — you ok?”

Louis didn’t turn around to look at him, he didn’t want Harry to see the tears that were already falling from his eyes.  “Yeah.  See you tomorrow.”  

As he closed his bedroom door he heard Harry turn off the television and mutter, “Fuck.”

****

The fourth time was magic. 

“The hills are alive...with the sooouuunnnd of muuuuussssiiiic!”  Louis skipped into the dorm room, lowering his voice as he entered.  He was happy.  Happy to be alive.  Or, at the very least, happy to be able to breathe again.  The illness he had over the first cold snap was finally gone and he could think clearly again.  

He was going to tell him.

Him, being Harry.  And Louis had decided he was going to tell him that he had...feelings for him.  “Feelings...ohohohoho feeeeeeelings.”  

Louis tossed his wet coat on top of his drenched converse gym shoes, dropping his damp backpack on top of the whole soggy mess.  “Harry?”

Louis raced down the hall toward Harry’s room and slid to a stop in front of the bathroom.  

“Lou!  Oh god.  Um…”  

“Haz?”

“Um…”  Harry was sitting on the edge of the toilet in boxer briefs and nothing else with one foot firmly planted on the ground and the other on the edge of the tub.  He had a bottle of black nail polish in his hand — it looked so small in his big paw — and he had dribbled dots of goopy paint on the top of his foot along with a small drop on the blue bath mat.  

“Are you — painting your nails?”  Louis spoke softly, slowly.  Harry looked spooked and Louis didn’t want to scare him off.  Things had been a little tenuous since the day on the couch...when Harry had acted so weird about Louis trying to get personal. 

Harry bit his lip and capped the polish.  His face was flushed and he looked so, so soft and pretty to Louis.  “I…” he blew out a breath, “Yeah.  I am.”

“Oh.”  Louis leaned against the door frame, sans door, and watched Harry.  His body was taut and he was looking forlornly from the drips of ebony against his pale skin to his hands, still holding the glass bottle.  “That’s cool.”

Harry’s head whipped up and he stared into Louis’ eyes, searching, wide.  “What?”

“I think it’s cool.”  Louis walked into the bathroom and crouched on the floor at Harry’s feet, resting back on his heels, ignoring the fact that they probably hadn’t cleaned the floor since they moved in.  

“R — really?”  Harry bit his lip again, a nervous gesture of his, Louis had noticed.  

“Yeah.  Totally.  Just…”  Louis took the bottle gently from his hand, their fingers brushing together, spreading warmth up Louis’ arm and through his chest.  “Um, you’re kinda shit at it?”

Harry looked incredulous for a moment and then burst out laughing.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I kinda am.”

Louis grinned and nudged the other boy in the calf with his toe.  “Lemme?”

The room was still and perfect for a moment.  All Louis could hear was the dripping water in the tub and the small fluttery sound of Harry breathing, his long hair billowing around his face with every exhale.  

“K.”  Harry’s voice was small, but with that one syllable, Louis felt a small trickle of trust sliding into place between them again.  

Without a word, Louis uncapped the bottle and started to carefully swipe thin lines across Harry’s big toe.  Harry leaned forward and watched Louis’ motions intently.  Louis could feel his eyes roaming all over his face, but he didn’t look up at him.  The act of polishing someone else’s nails felt oddly intimate to Louis, and special.  Clearly Harry had been embarrassed about it, so it felt like a gift to get to do this for him.  

Louis held Harry’s foot carefully on his knee and painted each toe.  He blew across the wet lacquer like he’d seen his sisters do a million times.  Harry giggled.  “Tickles.”

Louis smiled up at him and their faces were suddenly very, very close.  Louis could make out the brown and gold flecks in Harry’s eyes and could see the small freckles that danced across his nose.  His full lips looked feather soft at this distance and they shone with a light sheen of what smelled like cherry chapstick.  “ _ Oh _ .”  Louis was entranced.  

They stared deep into each other’s eyes, the dripping faucet providing background music.  Drip, drip, drip.  Kiss, kiss, kiss.  Drip, drip…

“It’s dripping.”  Harry’s deep voice cut through the moment like a knife through a thick slice of sweet tea bread.  His eyes never left Louis’.  Louis felt like he was swimming in the blue-green depths —  floating, floating, floating... 

“Yeah...it’s…”  Louis’ felt dreamy.  Foggy.

“I mean...the polish.  It’s…”  Harry looked down and jerked his foot away, catching Louis off guard. 

Louis flailed, and fell backward on his bottom, the polish tumbling to the tile floor.  There were drops everywhere — it looked like a macabre goth art project.  “Oh fuck!  Shit.”  Louis scrambled to get up, the black polish smearing under his hand, dragging a dark smudge across the ceramic.

Harry started laughing, that loud braying laugh of his that made Louis’ toes curl in satisfaction over being the cause of it — over having made Harry happy.  Louis joined in, standing up and surveying the damage.  There was a fair amount of polish on Harry’s foot, along with what was drying there from before, as well as on the floor and the bath mat.  

“Fuck.  I’ll...I think we have some polish remover in here from when the girls were here last…”  Louis turned around, standing on his tiptoes to look through the small linen closet next to the sink.  He couldn’t quite see the top shelf so he was just patting around blindly with his hand, stretching as far as he could.  “I can’t…”

“Need some help?”  

Harry was there. Behind him.  Pressing his long warm body up against him and Louis felt woozy from it for a moment.  Harry’s deep, deep voice traveled in Louis’ ear right to his cock and fucking hell — was it always that sexy?  Louis could feel every line, every ridge of Harry’s lean body pressing into his back, his bum.  And more than just feeling good, feeling right, having Harry covering him like that felt like flicking on a million switches up and down his body, bringing him back to life.  The nerves snapped like livewires and the synapses in his brain went cloudy from it for a moment.  

Louis stood completely still, aware of Harry’s breath on his neck and the way his chest and stomach rose and fell with each inhale, each exhale, like a slow rising tide.  He could feel, through Harry’s thin boxers the hard line of Harry’s cock and — Jesus Christ.  Was this kid always hard?  

“I…”  Louis couldn’t believe how rough his voice sounded.  He sounded completely wrecked all from the feel of Harry’s body on his.  

Harry reached up, pushing into Louis harder.  Louis clamped his mouth shut and held his breath as he turned his head so that his cheek rubbed against the soft skin of Harry’s pectoral muscle.  He smelled so good, and there was a  _ heat  _ to him,  _ clinging  _ to him — like the hot summer sun beating down on arid earth.  It soaked into Louis’ bones and made him ache for more. Louis was afraid to open his mouth to say anything because he knew he would moan or say something stupid like ‘fuck me already, Harry’, so he just stayed quiet.  He willed himself to stand perfectly still — to not push his ass back into the perfect hollow of Harry’s hips where he knew, he just knew, his bum would fit perfectly.  

“Got it,” Harry whispered, hot breath skating down Louis’ neck.  

Louis stood still and felt Harry’s hand drop to his hip where he squeezed the soft curve and braced himself, keeping his body close, aligned.  Louis groaned, he couldn’t help it, and pushed back infinitesimally.  It felt exactly like he thought he would.  Perfect.  Hot.  Connected.  Not enough.

And then...it was gone.

All of the heat and the muscle and the sublime way that Harry fit neatly against Louis’ body like his other half.  Gone.

Louis whirled around, aware of his semi that was rapidly growing in his trousers, and saw Harry kneeling with a cloth and the remover.  Harry didn’t look up when he said, “I got this, Lou.  I can...I can clean it up.”

Louis shifted and watched the muscles in Harry’s back bunch up as he rubbed over the drying inky black polish.  “You — you sure?” He squeaked. 

Harry nodded his head, still looking at the floor, leaving Louis befuddled.  Walking back to his room, his good mood from earlier dissipating by the second, Louis felt confused again by his mercurial roommate — the object of his unrelenting desire — Harry.

****

The fifth time it happens was completely, totally, absolutely on purpose.  

And it was all Louis’ fault.

At least that’s what Harry was thinking as he was about to make the biggest and, most likely, the stupidest mistake of his life.  

Just a few moments before everything had been great.  Swell.  Until it wasn’t.  

They had been relaxing over a couple of beers, home again after a night out.  Neither of them were drunk, per se, but they’d both been buzzed and had been having so much damn fun together.  They’d been celebrating their last Friday before the craziness of finals and the end of their first semester began.  Harry had decided to take Louis up on his offer to go home with him for Christmas and everything just seemed, well...too perfect to be true.

Until Louis had to go and ruin everything.

“You’re such a tease,” he had said.

“What?”  Harry had laughed, almost spitting out his beer, a sense of eerie shock crawling over him.

“A tease!  You.  Are.  A.  Tease.”  Louis said each word, punctuating each one with a tap to his nose.

Harry watched him and felt his mouth drop open.  What was Louis saying?  “I’m — “

“Don’t even argue.  You are.”  Louis leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest.  “The biggest tease ever.”

“How?”  Harry was still smiling, feeling the buzz of warmth and alcohol under his skin fade as the cute boy that he’d come to adore so much stared at him with sparking blue eyes.  He loved those eyes.  But still, he felt something needle at him, making him on edge, the urge to run itching at his feet.

Louis leaned forward.  “Everytime I get close to you…”  he took a drink of Harry’s beer.  Harry watched his mouth close around the bottle and he swallowed hard.  Louis’ lips were pink and stretched prettily around the brown glass and god.  He was gorgeous.  “You push me away.  You won’t let me in Haz.”  

Harry blinked slowly.  What?  He won’t — what?

“Ever,” Louis said sadly, leaning back again, his eyes changed, stormy somehow, far away.

“I — “  Harry’s mouth was open but his brain wouldn’t process the words.  How could he tell Louis that he was everything?  Everything he could ever want but he was so damn scared to fuck everything up that he couldn’t move forward.  He was stuck.  So stuck.  And Louis?  Louis was just so much.  He filled up every room with light.  And Harry was falling so hard but how could he tell Louis?  If he told him he’d...he might risk losing him.

“Well?”  Harry realized that Louis was waiting for him to answer.  To give him something.

He looked at Louis, watching the other man’s face start to close down, shut off from emotion.  Harry swallowed and whispered, “I’m not.  I...I’m not.  I don’t.”

Louis stared at Harry, disbelief dawning across his delicate features.  The entire night, the entire semester, for christ’s sake, felt like it was crumbling around them, all because Harry was so paralyzed, so unable to say anything — to  _ do _ anything.  Harry’s head was spinning, he didn’t know what was happening, didn’t know what to say.  

“You know what, Harry?  Just...fuck you.   _ Fuck _ .   _ You _ .”  Louis pushed back from the table, knocking over one of the empty bottles and he stalked out of the room.  “I don’t know how much clearer I can get,” he muttered.  Seconds later, Harry heard the shower start up. 

Harry sat there in silence, stunned.  

Again, totally, completely, utterly Louis’ fault he was about to do what he was about to do.

Slowly, he stood up and took a deep breath, trying to draw in every ounce of courage he could.  He had to do this.  

He  _ could _ do this.   

Harry pushed his jeans down around his ankles and kicked them off with his socks.  His t-shirt came next.  Wearing only his boxer briefs, he walked slowly toward the doorless room, one foot after the other.  He could do this.  

When he got to the bathroom he could make out Louis’ compact, curvy form behind that clear curtain.  He wasn’t washing anything — he was just standing there, under the stream with his head thrown back.  Fuck.

No turning back now.

Harry felt like he was watching himself from above as he slid the curtain back and stepped into the hot steam.  Louis’ head dropped forward just as his eyes opened and he yelped, “What the fuck?  Harry!?”

Harry bit his lip and stared at the other boy.  Water droplets clung to Louis’ dark lashes and his hair was pushed off his face, exposing his wide forehead, making his cheekbones look more pronounced, more regal, somehow.  

“I need to tell you...I have to…”  Harry slowly closed the gap and put his hands on either side of Louis’ neck.  He leaned forward so they could share each other’s breath.  Louis shuddered as Harry’s body drew closer and Harry felt so much for the boy in front of him.  

He deserved so much.  So much more than Harry could give him.

But he wanted to try.

“I’ve slept with a lot of people, Lou.”

Louis leaned back and put his hands on Harry’s hips, holding him at arm’s length.  “Ok?”  He sounded hesitant, but he didn’t tell Harry to get out, so that was something. 

Harry had started so he had to finish.  He could do this.  

“Right.  So.  I’ve never really, like, been in love or even had feelings for someone?  I was just...before college...I just kind of had a lot of sex.”  He looked down at their feet — his right foot still sporting painted toenails, the other completely stark and unpainted.  

He felt warm hands tangle in his hair then and felt Louis’ body press against his.  “Tell me.”

Harry drew in a sharp breath and hooked his chin over Louis’ shoulder.  Maybe if they didn’t look at each other it would be so bad.  “And, you know, sex is good, right?”  Louis chuckled and ran his hands over Harry’s bare back, pulling him closer, into the spray more.  “But like, I was just sleeping around, Lou.  And it felt...I felt so empty.  And I…”

“One night I’d gotten pretty drunk and like slept with a couple of guys at once and like...the next day I felt horrible.  Used and empty and like...just dead inside?  It got to the point where like...people expected it.  It was like ‘oh, there goes Harry, the guy that will fuck anything that moves’, you know?  And I knew, once I went to college, got away from home, I could...like...reinvent myself?”  Louis’ hands were strong and sure on his back, in his hair, at his hips.  “And I wanted to just like, focus on school.  Take care of myself.  You know?  Just be Harry.”  He took a deep breath.  That was the bulk of it.  He was leaving out some of the reasons why he slept around, some of the reasons why he felt like he needed to fill himself with something to replace the love he was missing from his divorced parents and his recently remarried mom, but they could get to that later.  They had time.

“What are you thinking?”  Harry asked; quiet, tentative.

Louis was still a moment and then he said, gentle and so, so sweet, his eyes sinking into Harry’s own, “I think the past is the past.  And...you’re you and I....I could really be falling for you Harry.  And, I don’t care about what you did before.  And I think I’ve — I think I’ve gotten to a better place after what happened to me.  All that matters is who  _ we  _ are now.  What  _ we  _ do now.  You know?”  

Louis’ face was bright and so reassuring, Harry could feel himself melting.  He could feel all of the tension and uncertainty and his own feelings of being lesser somehow slipping down the drain with the cooling water.  Louis could be his.  They really could — this could really happen.   

“Anyway,” Louis continued against his neck, lips moving over Harry’s heated skin.  “Then you met me,” he said quietly.

Harry leaned back and stared at Louis, the heat in his eyes like an ice blue inferno, so intense, so pure.  “Then I met you.”

They lost themselves for a moment in each other’s eyes until Louis said, “You like me.”

Harry felt himself smile, slow and very, very sure.  “I more than  _ like  _ you.”  Voice cracking a little, Harry whispered, “Are you ok with this?  Like.  I don’t just want a physical thing.  I want all of it.  All of you.”

Louis smiled back, a mirror of the giddy feeling threatening to take over Harry’s heart, his very soul.  They deserved this, didn’t they?  “I want that too,” Louis said, his voice light and airy, like breathing in summer, warm and bright.  

Harry blinked back tears and breathed out a sigh of relief, watching Louis’ mouth as he licked over his lips once.  All could think was ‘kisshimkisshimkisshim’.  

Louis pulled Harry’s head down so that their noses bumped.  Harry could smell beer and mint and the soft sweet smell of Louis’ breath.  “Are you gonna kiss me, Haz?”

“Can I?”  Harry could hardly see straight he was so nervous.  Excited.  Nervecited.  

“If you don’t kiss me, Harry, I swear to god — “

Harry kissed him.

The first brush of wet lips on wet lips felt like a revelation.  Louis’ lips slotted together with Harry’s in the most glorious way.  Like they belonged there.  Harry had an insane thought that if he could walk around with Louis attached to his lips for the rest of his life he would.  And then Louis’ tongue was brushing up against Harry’s bottom lip and Harry moaned, letting Louis in.  When their tongues met, Harry felt completely and totally lost to it — to the intoxicating taste of Louis, the feel of his body against his and the way he whined into the kiss.  And it was like everything Harry had always thought it would be but so, so much better.

It was better than anything that came before.  Harry was certain of that.

Louis broke the kiss and smiled angelically up at Harry.  “Been waiting a long ass time for that, Harold.”

Harry smiled down at him, “Worth the while?”

“You have no idea,” Louis muttered, pulling Harry down again, like he was starving.  Like he needed Harry’s lips on his as badly as Harry needed his.  This kiss was heated right away, the electric slide of Louis’ tongue, Louis soft tummy, his firm thighs, his strong legs — everything made slicker from the water — felt unbearably good to Harry.  So good he barely registered how hard he was getting because Louis, Louis was  _ rock hard  _ against him and he had started rubbing up against him.  And fuck.  Harry had wanted this too.  He wanted everything with Louis.

“Lou...Lou.  We have to…”  Harry pulled away and breathed heavily, his brain catching up with his body.  “I don’t want to rush with you.  I want it.  All of it.  But I don’t want to fuck this up.  I don’t want to fuck you up.  I — I’m clean.  I get tested every six months.  But still...I want to take my time with you.  Be proper boyfriends.  And, like….”

Louis smiled, his eyes bright and shining and his cheeks flushed either from the heat of the water or the way Harry was holding him.  “Babe.  I want it all too.  Everything.  I’ve —  _ fuck _ .  I’ve wanted you for so long.  I want it to be right for both of us, yeah?  But there’s nothing stopping us from taking it slow.  Doing other things, right?  Just not sleeping with each other.   _ Yet _ .”  

Harry nodded his head, in complete agreement.  He liked that Louis added on the word ‘yet’.  He liked that a lot.  He watched as Louis bit his lip, considering his next words.  “But…”  Harry felt Louis’ small fingers dance over the waistband of his briefs.  “These are in the way.”

Harry arched an eyebrow and smirked.  “Yeah?”

“I mean.  If you want me to get my hand around you they are.”

Harry wasted no time pushing his soaking wet underwear down and off his leg.  He couldn’t resist when he swiveled his hips, making his hard cock bob around between them.  “Don’t leave me hanging here, Lou.”

Louis looked down at him and shook his head.  When he looked back up his eyes were dark, fathomless, but his words were light and teasing, “You’re awful, you know it?”

“Oh I know.  But…”  Harry leaned forward, licking into Louis mouth, missing the taste of him already.  “But I’m yours.  All yours.”  He reached down and wrapped his hand around Louis’ hard, smooth cock.  Fuck, he felt better than Harry could have ever imagined after all this time — all those times seeing him naked.  

“Hm, feels good,” Louis groaned, reaching down and taking Harry in his hand, the feeling of Louis’ hand on his dick sending shocks up Harry’s spine.  “ _ You _ feel good.  And,  _ fuck _ !”  Louis yelled out as Harry swiveled his hand on the upstroke, covering the sensitive, exposed head of the other man’s cock.  “I’m yours.  All yours.”

Harry sped up his hand, matching Louis’ twist for twist, glide for glide, and as they approached climax together, Harry moaned, deep and satisfied in Louis’ ear, “You’re mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Authors love notes! Just sayin'
> 
> Also, come find me on tumblr: [click here](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com/)


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